


No Rest For The Wicked

by veronicassadboi



Series: Jeronica Nation [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Mild Smut, jeronica nation shit, my jeronica nation drabbles, souphead our boy is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassadboi/pseuds/veronicassadboi
Summary: Veronica can almost hear the complaints he’ll relay to her during her shift at Pop’s tomorrow night with his smile all one sided and a lick of his lips as he watches her clean tables, bent over them just so… she’s drawn back into the moment when Jughead walks away from Betty, swaggers out of the door, and in a single beat, she feels her phone vibrate with a message from the Serpent King himself. Desperate, needy, promises of her on top with her nails on his chest. He’d been deprived of her, doesn’t his fingers look so pretty around her neck? and when was he going to be able to see her? Because he’s been dreaming of Princess all day… She hates him a little when he’s all pretty words and desperation because in the end, she was too. Needy close, words on his tongue. Her perfume on his mouth. Him all over her body in constellation strewn marks- Something is going on between Jughead and Veronica. And no body is supposed to know.
Relationships: Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Series: Jeronica Nation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552414
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Jeronica Nation](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Jeronica+Nation).

> This is just a collection of all the bullshit I've made over the course of the Jeronica Nation Group Chat.

_ **Souphead visits Jughead** _

* * *

The buzz through Pop’s was more deafening than ever while the bleak chatter echoed in Jughead’s ears and the clashing sound of Souphead’s laugh jolted through the joint.

Jughead tries to drown the noise of his cousin’s obnoxious howl of laughter as Souphead orders a Pop’s special from Veronica, with the incessant tapping of his fingers on his keyboard. Southside was _his_ and there was no way he was going to let his dumbass cousin come all the way from Toledo and try and claim his territory, even the bright lights of Pop’s came with a level of territorial claim to those who were born and raised here, yet Souphead leans on the front counter with his boot resting on foot railings and says; “Now how did I girl as beautiful as you end up in a place like this?”

Veronica laughs lightly, smile fluttering in just a way to make Jughead smile himself. “Who are you? Jug’s long lost twin?”

“Souphead,” he states, cocky half-sided smile plastered on his face, holding his hand out to shake which Veronica takes. “The bigger, better, sweeter, more attractive version of my dear cousin here.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she replies with a undercurrent of sarcasm.

With Betty and Archie gone to Chicago for the summer, the highlight of his day was overfilling with chocolate shakes and Veronica’s animated tales of her shifts at Pop’s. She’d read over his manuscript with fresh eyes and in the end, inflate his ego with forcefully telling him how good his writing is.

On the other hand, he’d spend hot, sticky summers evenings overloading on caffeine and eating new menu concoctions she comes up with a grin brighter than the lights of Pop’s on her face when he tells her she’s a great cook - he hates lying, he hates watching her disappointment even more. The lies are worth it just to see her happy when she’s so unsure about everything, including Chicago.

Souphead’s competitive nature sparks Jughead’s. He was not going to bow down to a Toledo Serpent, nor let his cousin get away with things like he always does. Veronica was his friend, and she didn’t need to be stuck with the asshole who rolled into town.

She places a plate down in front of Souphead before turning. “And for you Jug?” Veronica prompts, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“The usual please, Princess,” Jughead says boldly, trying to keep the defeat from his tone and pulling his Southside kutte tighter across his back, running his tongue across his teeth gaining a bit more control.

Veronica gives a polite smile and turns to Souphead, offering the maple syrup pourer. “Syrup?” she asks, awaiting his nod of approval, slowly drizzling it on his waffles.

Souphead laughs and slaps his hand on the table. “Ah, Princess, don’t tell me you know this guy! I can show you a better time than this sad sack of -“

She cuts him off. “Don’t call me princess,” Veronica’s eyes darken and flicker to Jughead before tipping the pourers entire contents over Souphead’s food, flooding it with the Blossoms best. “You’re sweet, aren’t you?” she says with a just as sweet smile on her face, still holding up the pourer. “You said so yourself,” she turns her attention to Jughead. “Wait for me after my shift?” She asks. “So I can show your cousin just how well I know you.” She turns on her heels, shoulders pulled back with satisfaction and she gives Jughead a wink before going out the back to the kitchen.

“Who is she?!” his cousin asks, fishing out sausage from the ocean of syrup, frown deep and concerning. “She’s scary. She’s beautiful. My kinda girl.”

“Veronica Lodge,” Jughead says simply.

Souphead sighs. “Damn, Jug. She’ll eat you alive.”

Jughead doesn’t answer, but his eyes don’t move from just above his laptop where he watches her pour extra coffee. There was something about the air of confidence that oozes from her, her hair tucked behind her ears and the quick, sharp way of her words that made Jughead think of what the world would be like if she wasn’t in it.

Jughead thought he knew Veronica well, but there was something in him that wished that he could get to know her better. And he needed her in his world.

Souphead licks his lips all covered in maple syrup. “What’s a bet that I can get her to go out with me?”

Jughead stabs a fork into the food set out in front of him, wishing it was something else. Or _someone_ else.


	2. TT and Queen V

_ **TT and Queen V** _

* * *

Toni plays with fraying cotton on the sleeve of her crop top, hushed tones with warm breath against Veronica’s neck as she leans into her hair. Her eyes never leaving the tall form of Jughead while he stands under the muted light of Reggie’s living room, spilt alcohol smelling sticky and sweet. His body leans into Betty, head bowed, propped up with his hand against the wall and her in between, Toni notices their words are sharp but silent. His eyes dart all over the place and Betty’s brow furrows when she speaks. Toni smiles slightly before whispering to Veronica; “How many drinks do you think it‘ll take Cheryl to try and talk to me? And how many drinks will it take before Betty throws one in Jughead’s face?”

“Not enough for you to want to talk to her, that, I will make sure of,” Veronica says, lips almost touching Toni’s neck. “Not even half a drink before Betty tries to gouge his eyes out with that fresh manicure…”

“How many drinks do you think it’ll take you to not make your thing with Jughead so obvious?” Toni looks into Veronica’s eyes, piercing and dangerous. Veronica straightens her back and purses full lips, not saying anything. Blush creeping along her chest, a not so convincing shrug of her shoulders. “Imagine not being allowed to play seven minutes in heaven because your girlfriend said you couldn’t…” Toni sighs, light snigger in the direction of the couple standing directly in front of them.

Veronica smirks in reply, her own eyes plastered on Jughead, chest rising and falling quickly from Toni’s warm words against her skin and her menacing smile makes Veronica feel just as bad. She watches Betty argue with her boyfriend yet again, too many days in a row of arguments that now, Veronica’s unable to keep track of. Jughead’s eyes catch hers and seem to darken before flickering back to his girlfriend in front of him.

Veronica can almost hear the complaints he’ll relay to her during her shift at Pop’s tomorrow night with his smile all one sided and a lick of his lips as he watches her clean tables, bent over them just so… she’s drawn back into the moment when Jughead walks away from Betty, swaggers out of the door, and in a single beat, she feels her phone vibrate with a message from the Serpent King himself. Desperate, needy, promises of her on top with her nails on his chest. He’d been deprived of her, doesn’t his fingers look so pretty around her neck? and when was he going to be able to see her? Because he’s been dreaming of Princess all day… She hates him a little when he’s all pretty words and desperation because in the end, she was too. Needy close, words on his tongue. Her perfume on his mouth. Him all over her body in constellation strewn marks.

Veronica ignores her phone, heart racing, heat building in her. The sound of Jughead’s skin on her skin echoing in her mind, the feel of his hands on her neck making her legs squeeze a little tighter.

The yellow hued lights on Toni’s hair makes her seem ethereal, the just as entitled smile that plays on her lips reminds Veronica of Jughead’s cockiness. Toni’s skin is oh so smooth as her legs that only end at the short leather skirt that rides up her thighs need to be touched. Toni’s hands resting on Veronica’s legs make her want even more. “Forget about that, Veronica murmurs, “imagine seven minutes in heaven with me instead.”

“I’ll cut you a deal, I’ll help you forget Jughead and you help me forget Cheryl and we’ll both have more than seven minutes in heaven,” Toni offers with her hand out that Veronica takes briefly.

Veronica’s lips curl, smiling at Toni with her hands travelling along Toni’s thighs. “I’ve always loved a temporary fix.”


	3. No Rest For The Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light smut, baby.

_ **No Rest For The Wicked** _

* * *

It feels as if the sun sets earlier in Riverdale than any other place on earth. There’s a hush that falls over Sunnyside Trailer Park that makes Jughead feel as if there’s a badness that leaks into him. That was something she had instilled in him. 

Betty. 

Jughead smokes menthol cigarettes that he stubs out in the messy ashtray that sits next to his bed. Eighteen doesn’t feel anything like freedom anymore. 

It’s all messed up whiskey covered kisses that an old Serpent mom promises the King of Southside along with a time that he won’t forget. Slurring words over spilt vodka and that voice as rough as a million Marlboros she’s huffed since she was sixteen years old; old, torn fishnets and AC/DC on her chest. Dirty, Whyte Wyrm bathroom benches that he leans on when he’s had too much to drink.

Everyone wants a piece of the Serpent King, it’s funny how the girl he fought to be his Queen doesn’t want that anymore. As if he had changed. No one born South ever changes, they’re just a repeat of the older generation. Part of that snake pit; damned if he was born in it.

Betty was vanilla laced kisses that felt just as soft as her words were. Sometimes he loved that. He loved the sugar coated white picket fence that Northside promised him and there were so many scholarships that she could shove down his throat and convince him he wanted it, all he needed to do was try… 

He couldn’t swallow her controlling nature. And the taste of Betty’s pride in him wouldn’t ever taste as good freedom. But he tried, because that’s what love makes you do.

Jughead tried so hard until his nails felt like they were splitting and his brain was working over time. He tried until Southside demanded more of him. He tried until his dad shoved that metaphorical crown on his head. He tried until school told him that maybe, Riverdale High wasn’t giving him what he was looking for anymore. He tried until Archie told him he had changed too much. 

He tried until Betty told him that everything was too much for her. And maybe she just didn’t love him anymore. 

Jughead sniggers to himself. Rewatching The Goonies gave him some comfort. Like a cold, cheap hug through the eighties and through the TV screen right here in his trailer bedroom. “Betty always hated Mouth anyways,” he says out loud and shrugs to himself relighting a brand new minty menthol. 

Riverdale holds no love for the people like him, at least that’s how he feels. No love for the wicked, no love for the used. No love for those who fight a little harder. 

No love for the kids with no souls and empty pockets. Or the ones like him who scrawl messy words on pretty paper - sour words faking poetry. 

It’s been three months since she left. She left a pink leather jacket that was a sick reminder of just how deep Jughead was willing to drown in Sweetwater River for the girl with the blonde hair and the equally as light heart. It was almost as if he had faked every aspect of her so that he could pin her up in the Southside and try and convince people that she was supposed to be there. Made them bow down to the girl who wasn’t from there and had no right to be leading people. The whole thing was a bitter taste in Jughead’s mouth, at the very back of his throat - _ fake _. 

There was a whole paragraph written out on his phone that he wanted to send to Betty… all he had to do was push send. 

He presses a number and the call button instead. 

“What the do you want, Jughead?” answers him almost straight away. 

The sheer abruptness of it all makes him smile on his end of the call, slinking down further into his sheets. Hand resting on his stomach, the rush of her tone creeping up his skin‍. Oh how her words sing when she’s mad. Oh, how her touch stings when he has a fist full of her hair...

“What are you wearing?” he asks. 

The other end sighs out loud and he can almost hear the rolling of eyes. “What am I wearing?”

“That’s what I asked, wasn’t it?”

“Are you watching TV?”

“Princess -“

“The Goonies?”

“You know me that well?”

“I know the background score that well,” she replies with a huff. “Toni’s favourite.”

He lays uncomfortably, shifts awkwardly in his sheets when he knows Veronica knows exactly how Toni tastes. “You’re my favourite.”

“Buttering me up, are you?”

Jughead smiles again and stubs out the red tipped cigarette before running his thumb in the band of his boxers. “What are you wearing?”

“What did you do this time to fuck things up and have you on your hands and knees for me, Jughead?”

He cringes at his own name. “You’re playing that game, huh?” he teases. “_ Veronica _.”

“Gross,” she says with a shudder that could be heard even from his trailer. “What am I wearing? Tears and cookies and cream ice cream that missed my mouth and ended up on my chest.” 

He laughs and it crackles over the phone. “I almost sent a message to Betty… telling her everything she ever did wrong by me.” 

“Nice,” Veronica laughs back. “Because that always goes down well - you show her, baby. You show her why she dumped your ass.” 

“She did me a favour.” 

“I bet Archie doesn’t think that way. He’s still messaging me.” 

Jughead exhales. “Our sad singles club, huh?”

Veronica takes a sip of something. Midnight mimosas, wine and fancy Chambord. “Do you ever wonder if you’ve made a mistake so bad, you can’t come back from it?”

The phone goes silent. “He doesn’t understand you, V. You’re something special.”

She fakes shock and Jughead keeps playing with the band of his boxers. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”

“You gonna thank me for it?”

She pretends to think, humming on her end. “You’re smooth, Jones. Tell me how you want me to thank you.” 

Jughead clears his throat, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and clenching his jaw. “Come over, Princess,” he tells her. “I’ve got food, some old classics and if you’re still down for some dude, I got that too.”

Veronica pauses. “What you got to eat?”

Jughead appreciates the change in tone. He hates her serious questions. 

Because he asks himself them every single fucking day. 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Toni for my liking,” he says darkly. “Come on, Princess,” he hums. “Touch yourself and tell me just how much you’ve missed me…”

Veronica’s phone crackles again. A; “Fuck you,” escapes along with a moan that screams that she’s doing what she’s told without her saying the words. Through a moan she manages; “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

* * *

He hates to feel like he’s anything more than the exterior he wears when he’s at school, but there was something about Veronica Lodge that makes Jughead feel a little more vulnerable than usual. He doesn’t want it to be anything about star alignments and fate introducing her just when he needed her most, but she was there when he ran with the Serpents and she broke down his guard so quickly, he doesn’t think anyone in his life has ever done that to him. She brings with her the air of cynicism laced with being able to see the good in people and he likes that. She was just the right amount of everything that Jughead needs… and that’s why when she fucks him in the backroom of the Whyte Wyrm, it’s never awkward.

Jughead doesn’t even try to pretend like he should be more than what he is right now. He’s empty and full at the same time. His need for Betty is all based on familiarity, sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with his time and it would usually be filled with Betty’s nonstop chatter and his half-truthed declarations of his love for her. Love shouldn’t be like that. The more she tried to change him, the more she promised to love him. Love shouldn’t be as fake as the smile she used to wear or the way he’d call her name as he came with his mind racing everywhere other than her room on Elm Street.

And that’s how he ended up fucking his best friend’s ex against the wall of Hiram Lodge’s office in the penthouse suite of the Pembrooke.

He knows he isn’t perfect. His life is exactly as it should be. It’s what he deserves. 

A fucked up, Southside story. 

He knows his best friend’s ex feels the same. Maybe Archie was a whirlwind romance that promised her a lot of things and a life that she thought she wouldn’t ever get to experience. But Archie made Veronica feel like that owed her her entire life, and no amount of sticking to the right side of the tracks or acts of charity could pay Archie back. And Veronica couldn’t live with the guilt. 

Jughead doesn’t want to look so obvious, he has a nervous bite of his lip that he tries to hide because Veronica knows his tick off by heart. But even the equally as obvious cover of licking his lip instead just makes him appear hungrier… and maybe he was. Jughead knows the feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he was starved of her.

Veronica may be small but she has hips that he can cling onto roughly that know exactly how to ride him from on top. 

Jughead knows her. She’s challenging him. And the worst part is, he knows Veronica’s mind is already three steps ahead of his own - because she knows him better than he knows himself and she knows he won’t ignore a challenge. She’s all sultry silk panties and coy, darkened eyes. 

She slips her hand into the band of his boxers, but he’s quicker, spinning her around so that she’s against the wall and his whole body is on hers. A hand slides across her collarbone, one, two, three, four, five fingers all made especially for her pretty neck; just as fitting as those pretty little pearls she wears. He moves his hand away just as a sound escapes her lips telling him she misses it already. 

He nips at her neck and bites hard in other places; her collarbone, up to her lip, full tongue on her skin because he knows that’s exactly how she likes it. His fingers are long and fast, working on the satin that clings to her, tearing it apart, dropping it on cold, linoleum checkered flooring. Immediately he slides a finger along her slit, inside her pussy and curls up. “Fuck,V,” he says behind her ear. “Wet for me?”

She buckles a little under his touch. “Shut up, Jones,” she says in a breath. 

His teeth scrape along her skin as he continues to taste her and slowly drawing in and out his finger from her pussy. “You’re always so feisty,” he laughs but he slowly puts in another finger that makes her close her eyes and her mouth open wider. “You like that?”

Jughead watches Veronica as she tries to answer but she sucks in air between her teeth instead and nods before saying; “Fuck, Jug, fuck me now.”

“Then stop fighting with me,” he orders, holding her up with his hand. 

He leads her to the bed and she falls back, hitting the edge of the mattress and bringing back her legs so she’s spread wide and ready for him, digging her heels into the sheets. 

Jughead runs his two fingers up and down her slit before licking them clean. Veronica shudders as she watches him still in the flashing TV lights. He grabs his cock, three quick pumps and he’s already easing straight into her tight pussy, slipping in so easily… “Damn.” 

Veronica grabs onto Jughead’s ribcage, tracing her nails on his skin and he plants his hands on either side of her head before fucking her. 

He’s fast and with every thrust, he’s met with Veronica’s hips moving up to take him deeper. She clings onto him tighter, moving her arms around his neck to pull him down to her lips. She takes him between her teeth before kissing him deeper; taking him deeper. Letting him taste her deeper. “Harder,” she hisses in his mouth. “Fuck, harder!” 

Nothing is heard past the sound of slapping skin. When he concentrates hard enough, maybe the world is at a standstill. Every time she manages his name when his hands are around her neck, something convinces him that they were made for each other. Every lost breath she takes makes her push against him more and that’s the only kind of connection that makes him think that there was no other perfect match on this earth. There’s not enough poetic words in his mind that he could say to her while he was in so deep that would be able to tell her exactly how they were one in the same._ ‘I love you’ _ seems so weak in comparison to the feeling he has swelling in his chest. And when he bucks against her one last time and buries himself in her, he’s sure they’re forever one person. It feels something like love.

But love shouldn’t feel like drowning.

He throws his head back, muscles tensing. It’s messy and cliche. Soul singing, light blinding, muscle tearing cliche. 

He comes with her name on his tongue.

He lays directly on top of her, kissing her neck. When they’re like this, his soul tears at the thought of being apart.

Veronica lays three light kisses on his temples that he accepts and smiles at. “I should annoy you more often,” she replies, gently rolling him off. 

Jughead lays on his side of the bed, shoving more food in his mouth. “You always annoy me,” he shrugs. “Nothing new, Princess.”

As cliche as it always feels, the reality sinks in. 

He’s in his messy trailer with his best friend’s ex that’s just as lost as he is in 2AM moonlight. 

“Do you believe in love?” she asks him with sleepy eyes. 

“Love?” he repeats. 

“Yeah?”

Jughead thinks on her words. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“Fuck love,” Veronica announces. “It’s overrated anyway.” 

Jughead agrees. Fake acceptance of her words. Love is supposed to be as easy as breathing. 

She cuts off the oxygen in his room in the dirty trailer on Southside when she leaves. 


End file.
